


bomb shelters under your skin

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Tenderness, Touch-Starved, it's basically 1.5k of straight pining, post-dodgeball game, touch starved killua, truly cannot explain how much dumbass pining is in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: “No, it was worth it.”“Worth what?”Worth Gon trusting him, Killua thinks.  Worth the praise he’d earned. Worth seeing Gon smile, radiant and incandescent, when they won.  Worth Gon now, fussing over Killua as if he were a child, touching him gently and kindly and speaking softly to him in the dark.  Killua would suffer it all again--no, a hundred times over--if he got to live this moment again just once.“We got the card,” Killua says.  “That’s what matters.”In which Gon and Killua talk after the dodgeball game.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 55
Kudos: 621





	bomb shelters under your skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphiraLua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphiraLua/gifts).



> my dear sapphira is going through a hard time right now, so i wrote her something in an effort to cheer her up. i hope this can bring you even a tiny bit of happiness when life is feeling rather short on it, my friend <3
> 
> title is from "the shape i found you in" by girlyman.
> 
> ~~also i'm sorry for spamming the killugon tag w two updates in as many days!!~~
> 
> enjoy, my friends!!!!

Pain is irrelevant.

It’s practically become a mantra for Killua by now, one developed from the countless years of violence and cruelty. Pain is merely information. It’s merely sensory input, telling him of a certain bodily experience. Unless Killua plans to do something with the information, do something to ease the pain, it’s meaningless. Like the droning of a pointless program on television, or idle chatter in the background, or any other information that serves no purpose, Killua ignores it. It’s irrelevant, he tells himself sternly.

So, leaving the gymnasium, the Patch of Shore card safely in Gon’s binder, the unbearable throbbing of Killua’s hands means nothing. The nausea, the sweating, the uncomfortable warmth, the dizziness--they don’t matter. He isn’t going to act like a child, curl up under the nearest tree and clutch his mangled hands to his chest and writhe and whimper, however strong the impulse may be. All that matters is that he did what he had to, and did it well, that he held the ball like Gon had wanted. All that matters is Gon, so earnestly and so honestly, saying “It has to be Killua.” If he clings to that memory, to Gon needing him, trusting him, caring for him, if he relives it as completely as he can, the pain is nearly bearable. Nearly.

It’s all Killua can do to put one foot resolutely in front of the other and keep up his end of the conversation as they return to their camp in the desert. The pain keeps diverting his attention; it’s difficult for Killua to do much of anything beyond crumpling to the ground and pressing his forehead to the cool earth for even the slightest bit of relief. But he manages. By focusing on nothing more than the slow, steady rhythm of his breath, by relaxing as best he can, letting his mind go quiet and blissfully blank, Killua makes it back to their camp.

Sleep is unlikely tonight given the pain, but at least he can prop himself up against one of the rock formations and focus on slowing his breathing and relaxing as best he can for a while. Bisky spares him having to sleep suspending a boulder tonight--his hands are too badly injured to grasp the rope--so he eases into a comfortable position on the hard, dusty ground with a sigh. No doubt Gon will be asleep in moments--he exhausted himself thoroughly today--and Killua will get to listen to his steady breathing beside him, know that he’s safe and content and near.

The stars overhead are almost dizzying--there are too many to distinguish them all, a bright, swirling mass that Killua feels he might fall into if he leans too far. Out in the desert, away from the lights of the city, they multiply, then multiply again, until the whole sky is nothing but glimmer. It’s a good distraction, to sit and breathe deeply and gaze in awe at the canopy of stars above him, to feel small and unimportant in the most comforting way.

“Killua?”

Killua starts just slightly at Gon’s voice--he had thought he was long since asleep.

“Yes?”

For a long moment, Gon’s quiet, until Killua begins to wonder if he really did fall asleep this time.

“How badly does it hurt?” he whispers at last.

Killua stiffens.

“How badly does what hurt?” he asks, despite knowing exactly what Gon means.

“Your hands.”

Killua bites his lip.

“The pain’s nearly gone by now,” he says. “I hardly feel it.”

Gon sighs and quietly eases the boulder to the ground beside him.

“We’re too close to be lying to each other, don’t you think?”

Killua closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. As if he doesn’t lie to Gon every day, as if he doesn’t constantly conceal his secret, all-consuming, completely unforgivable desire.

“Fine,” he says at last. “It hurts.”

Gon makes a soft, strange sound, a bit like a sigh only quieter.

“Can I have a look?” he asks.

Killua stares at the red, hard dirt for a long moment.

“Fine.”

Gon holds out both of his hands, palms up, and Killua hesitates a moment before resting his hand atop Gon’s. Slowly and gently, Gon unwinds the bandages from Killua’s hands. He’s so tentative, so soft, so determined not to cause Killua any additional pain. It makes Killua’s heart do an odd, exhilarated sort of flip in his chest.

Once Killua’s right hand is free of the bandages, Gon sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Oh, Killua,” he says, his voice soft and heartbroken. Killua can’t help but revel in how tender his name sounds from Gon’s mouth. “It must hurt terribly, right?”

Killua shrugs, too distracted by the frantic beating of his heart and the way Gon’s eyes shine in the starlight and the gentle pressure of Gon’s hands beneath his to come up with any real response.

“I guess,” he says.

Slowly, Gon trails a single finger feather-light down the inside of Killua’s hand. Killua shivers and inhales abruptly, the sound so loud in the stillness of the desert. It doesn’t hurt. Far from it. The pressure is so light against his mangled hands that it actually feels good--soothing and comforting and easing a bit of the pain.

For perhaps as long as Killua can remember, his body has merely been a thing. It was simply a matter of survival. If a person hurts badly enough and for long enough, he supposes, it forces him to create some distance from the thing that’s hurting. It was the only way he avoided losing his mind entirely, turning his body into nothing more than a thing he wears, a thing he inhabits, several steps removed from Killua himself.

But with Gon stroking his hand, with the pleasant, shivery warmth of his finger down Killua’s palm and the comforting pressure of Gon’s hand beneath his, the distance Killua holds from his body all at once disappears. With Gon’s hand touching his own, Killua’s hand is not just his. It’s him _._

“I’m sorry,” Gon says, hardly above a whisper and still stroking Killua’s hand. “I got carried away. I didn’t realize how badly you’d been injured. I should’ve stopped myself.”

Killua shakes his head.

“No, it was worth it.”

“Worth what?”

Worth Gon trusting him, Killua thinks. Worth the praise he’d earned. Worth seeing Gon smile, radiant and incandescent, when they won. Worth Gon now, fussing over Killua as if he were a child, touching him gently and kindly and speaking softly to him in the dark. Killua would suffer it all again--no a hundred times over--if he got to live this moment again just once.

“We got the card,” he says. “That’s what matters.”

“No, it isn’t. The card and the game and finding Ging, they don’t matter nearly as much as doing right by you.”

Killua’s whole body grows warm. It’s almost too much, Gon sitting in front of him, stroking his hands, saying these things to him. Almost enough to make Killua do something extremely rash, something he’s bound to regret.

“I’ll do better next time,” Gon whispers. “I… I don’t want to become just another person who hurts you.”

Killua shakes his head.

“You’re not. You never could be. No matter what, Gon. You’d never be something bad that happened to me.”

Gon lifts Killua’s hand, cradled in his own, bringing it closer to his face, and Killua is certain of what comes next. All at once, the whole world slows. There are entire minutes beneath the beats of Killua’s heart as Gon comes closer to his hand. The crickets go quiet, the breeze stills, the whole world holds its breath, waiting, until at last, Gon presses the lightest kiss, just the barest brush of his lips, to the palm of Killua’s hand.

“There,” Gon says. “Sealed with a kiss. Now I can’t break the promise.”

Killua can’t help the sinking feeling in his insides. Of course that’s all it was--Gon making a promise. Of course it wasn’t how Killua imagined it, Gon kissing him simply because he wanted to, because he couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Killua was such a fool to imagine otherwise. He knows he should be grateful for any affection he receives, any moment Gon deigns to touch him, but Killua’s always been greedy. He knows this. He wants more. He wants Gon to kiss him and mean it.

But before Killua realizes what’s happening, Gon leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Killua’s cheek. His nose brushes so lightly against Killua’s face, and his mouth is soft and warm and gentle and Killua knows it’s probably impossible to tell, but he swears he feels Gon smiling. Killua gasps slightly in spite of himself, suddenly dizzy with joy.

“What was that for?” he mumbles, face burning.

Gon shrugs.

“I just felt like it.”

It takes every bit of Killua’s remarkable restraint not to lean forward and kiss Gon, not to loop his arms around his neck and pull him down hard, not to kiss him from here to eternity.

Gon gathers the bandage from his lap and begins to wrap Killua’s hand once more, slowly and gently, humming some soft, familiar tune as he does, but it’s hardly necessary. Killua can’t feel the pain any longer. No, he can’t feel anything but a warm, bright light in his chest, pulsing with every beat of his heart, shining brighter and more radiant than every star in the dark, glittering desert sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, i am treasuring & replying to every comment!!!!! i'm also vv active on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) should you care to say hello!!!! stay safe & healthy out there, my friends!!!
> 
> update!!!!!!! after i wrote sapphira this story she drew me [the most gorgeous art to go w it](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/post/615247231925321728/hey-its-sapphira-i-just-wanted-to-make-something) & submitted it to my tumblr, so i wanted to share this beautiful piece w you all!!!!!! xo


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